Monday, September 8, 2014

You’re probably
lost. Skeleton Crew Quarterly hasn’t published new material since the end of
2012, so whatever review or interview you’re looking for, I hope it’s old. On the off-chance you’re visiting this blog intentionally, as an occasional
reader wondering what the hell happened here, you remembered SCQ on the right
day. Below is the goodbye I’d written in January 2013; I opened it today
expecting some half-coherent draft and was surprised to find it nearly
complete. So, with over a year and a half behind us, here's SCQ’s lost goodbye:

****

01/10/13

The term “hiatus” is
often met with sadness in the music world, not because it represents a
permanent cessation of a band or label but because there’s no itinerary to comprehend
just what lies ahead. Like a chalkboard wiped clean of plans, the hiatus leaves
a momentary gap before we listeners fill it with other interests, other bands.
And occasionally, we don’t notice the gap at all.

Skeleton Crew
Quarterly turns five years old this month. Those who’ve tuned into this
music-blog semi-regularly over the years know that I rarely pass up an
opportunity to celebrate the passing seasons, and I had another Year-End
Questionnaire arranged to commemorate this milestone. The questions were
written and in two cases submitted – both recipients, pianist Nils Frahm and
Anton Newcombe of Brian Jonestown Massacre, agreed to take part – but my heart
just wasn’t in it. Back in the winter of 2007, the idea of asking a beloved musician
their top records of the year seemed like a dream. I was personally invested in
discovering and communicating those answers through a loudspeaker to anyone who
cared. And over the years, I’ve met and traded emails with many listeners who
were quite like me; readers who enjoy peering through the artist’s
looking-glass and investigating music their idols like. Only I’m not really one
of those people anymore.

I remain terribly
obsessed with music. It’s one of my life’s few great loves. But gradually,
thankfully, the pedestal I’ve offered songwriters for most of my life has
diminished; they’re real people with real jobs and real worries and real
minutia. Their opinions on music can be valuable and provocative, but it’s
trivia all the same. And in the spirit of simplifying my life and focusing my
creative impulses on what matters most, I’ve decided to leave the trivia to
others.

A random glimpse
over the 1,000 reviews I’ve written showcases an overabundance of trivia –
plenty of details I barely remember learning so long ago. But they also chronicle
five years of living, which is something a sentimentalist like me cannot
ignore. As I read over these reviews, it isn’t commentary on the music that
resonates so much as the memories invoked from the time period in which they
were written. Whether I was finding my voice with records culled from my own
collection during my year in that summer-y High Park apartment, or clicking
“publish” with the hope that proofreading wasn’t necessary during one of my
Greek-town all-nighters. Records I broke into over subway rides, between
classes at my teaching job in Taipei, on late-night Ottawa walks to pick up my
girlfriend, at the Starbucks in St Catharines before our internet was
connected, and so forth. In the end, how music scores our lives is what
Skeleton Crew Quarterly has always been about for me.

Some reviews I can
vividly remember – where I was sitting, the view over my laptop as I stared off
in concentration. Other reviews, I haven’t the foggiest. Sometimes I’d sneak
little secrets into my reviews, to see if friends or family were really
reading. (Fun fact: I announced my return from Taiwan a week before I surprised
everyone with my appearance in Canada.) And there are many great stories that
have gone on behind the scenes about attaining promo copies, missed opportunities
and weird semi-friendships that developed with artists, but they’re really only
great to me.

****

That’s it, that’s where
I stopped. I’m glad I was proactive enough to notify those who knew me best and
tell them, among other things, that they can stop wasting postage on SCQ. I'm also happy I had a chance to tell my conspirator Yusuf before he left this world. There
was a list of people I wanted to thank but the task to compile it would be
difficult and pointless now. So instead I thank my publicity comrades and label
insiders who were always stoked to send me CDs and tickets. I thank the
songwriters and band members I got to know for all of their kindnesses and
great music. And I thank the readers who made this whole enterprise a glorious bit
of fun. In many ways, SCQ was its own little hiatus.